


Words

by marvelousmadz



Category: Short Stories - Fandom
Genre: Blood, Broken Promises, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Drinking, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Self-Harm, parent divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 21:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelousmadz/pseuds/marvelousmadz
Summary: Alaia is a very broken girl, and everyone treats her terribly. Her parents are abusive, students victimize her, and her past haunts her. The things she does to escape her pain are even more painful.





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - Absolutely don't read if rape and self harm are sensitive topics for you. Sorry if it's too gruesome for some people to handle, but this story is very painful. Hope you guys enjoy.

In the corner of a darkly lit room, sat a dreary-eyed girl. Her face was shielded from the rest of the world, for she had founded it cruel. The smile that once plastered her face was now painted on with forgery. Everyone deliberated that she was a buoyant individual, yet they weren't aware of the pain she hid. The people she called her friends weren't her friends, just companions she had to forget about the loneliness.

She positioned herself in the middle of her bed, knees cradled, the temples of her forehead resting on her legs. Tears were streaming down the rosy, scarlet cheeks that belonged to a damaged body.

Her muffled sobs were silenced by a soft knock on the door. "Alaia, are you okay? Do you need anything?" her mom asked cautiously. "No, Mom. I'm okay, just a bad day at school." "Alright, honey, try and rest a bit. It might make you feel better," her mother then walked away

Then she pondered over her name—Alaia. It was the name her mom designated to her, meaning joyful. But she felt anything from happiness. The resilience was wearing thinner and slower by the second. If only her mother knew the truth, the misconduct ready to burst her open.

She glanced down at the blue and green tints that cast a grey shadow, the stale bruises recent from the dispute with her father. Finger-shaped marks lie across her forearms, collarbones, and neck. Her father had immobilized her against a wall, fucked up from alcohol. After his copious consumptions, he'd have violent outbursts.

Alaia's parents were divorced, so she went to her dad's house on the weekends. He picked up the act of drinking when his ex-wife left him, which was only four months ago. Since then, she had to allocate to her father's addiction.

Being an only child, she discerned more alone. Her mother was too observed in the idea of dating, leaving Alaia solo.

Cherry, the name of her childhood dog, was the nearest thing she obtained for comfort. Once Cherry died two years ago, Alaia sank into a deep depression. The solace from her dog had now slipped through her hands.

Now the venture she found condolence in was unspeakable. She has resorted to self harm, starting with the small stuff. At the beginning, she would burn spots on her thighs. As time progressed, so did the affliction. She hid razor blades in her bathroom drawers, and she would cut rarely, until four months ago. Her dad's alcohol obsession had caused her to lose herself.

Penetrations laid up and down her wrists, each cut getting deeper. Fresh slits were made almost everyday. Nothing could, or ever would, terminate the urge to punish herself.

Thoughts of agony, struggle, and worthlessness endorsed her mind. She learned to embrace the primitive side of her, the more unrealistic. Struggle by struggle, at least she made it. The yearning of marking her arms made her perceive who she is, a broken human being.

She bounced up from her bed and waltzed to the bathroom. It was one o'clock at night, so her mom was sound asleep. Now, she could get a taste of what she craved. The cabinet creaked loudly. She dug around until she found what she longed for, her razor blades.

Cautiously, she pierced the edge into her wrist. Each incision she made slowly, reassured that she took her time. The stinging sensation was astonishment for Alaia. This kind of high was one she couldn't get past.

For each nasty thought she held in her mind, was an added scar. She wanted to be reminded of the lonesome, troubling, and hard memories. In counting, she had seven intense lines implanted in her arm.

One assigned to her mother, a second for her father, a third for the people at her school. The successful, prettier girls constantly bullied her. Calling her mean names, slut, whore, fat, but the most ruthless was grilling her for her parent's divorce. They made her feel like she was accountable for it all.

She cut a fourth slash designated for her "best friend." Her old friend, Joanna, broke her heart. Joanna had backstabbed her, and ditched her like she was nothing. They were like sisters for five years, promising not even oblivion could separate them.

A fifth one was made for her long-term boyfriend. He mentally shattered her soul into a million pieces. Blake damaged her in ways that are unimaginable. He left her absent, never saying goodbye. No note, message, just a voicemail. Alaia gave him something that was special, her trust. She had trusted him with her life, but he threw it away. The voicemail read, "Sorry about leaving. My parents are sending me to live with my grandparents. I couldn't say goodbye, I hope you understand. I love you, Alaia."

A sixth cut was for her older cousin, he took advantage of her. Her cousin and aunt were in town for her mom's birthday, and he slept in the living room. In the middle of the night, she heard her bedroom door open. She saw it was only her cousin, and wasn't startled. Only she thought he wanted to read a book to her, he did that every time they were together. Her realization of cheerfulness turned into sheer terror when he whispered in her ear. "Don't scream. We are gonna play a game. If you say anything about this, you'll be taken away from your mom and dad. Got it?" She just nodded and stayed silent.

He started to take her pants off, then his own. Her body was being pressed into the mattress, and his hands were pinning her down farther. Then what came next, haunted her forever. Everything was okay until she felt something trying to rip her in two. He pushed himself inside her, and she just froze. She felt every movement getting deeper. He thrusted into her several times, waiting for her to adjust. All she wanted to do was scream, but nothing came out.

The look in his eyes, taking her innocence, was nerve-wracking to the bone. There was absolutely nothing there, just blankness. It was like staring into the irises of an emotionless monster.

After about ten minutes, he finally stopped. She watched as he pulled his pants back up and run out of the room. Tears poured down the eyes of a punctured angel, whose wings have been ripped off by a demon. She never spoke a word about the event, for she was too young to comprehend. She was only eight years old when her cousin had raped her, he was fifteen.

Lastly, a seventh cut was made for herself. By far, the biggest enemy here was her. All the fear and trauma she had experienced wasn't anyone's fault, but her own.

Readily, she dropped to the cold tile floor. She watched the memories of her past ooze out of her veins, and trickle down hitting the bottom. This was a weekly habit. And all it took was words, she thought.

Words.


End file.
